


Sugardrops

by ideallyqualia



Series: Rare Pairs [61]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Baking, Canon Universe, Developing Relationship, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-31
Updated: 2015-12-31
Packaged: 2018-05-10 15:02:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5590660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ideallyqualia/pseuds/ideallyqualia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kenma isn't much of a baker.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sugardrops

**Author's Note:**

  * For [themorninglark](https://archiveofourown.org/users/themorninglark/gifts).



> I was looking for last minute hqhols requests to treat, and your sugaken request caught my eye, morninglark. I hope you like it!

Suga carried a bowl filled with bags of ingredients and hefted it onto the table. "This is everything, I think."

Kenma's eyes scanned over everything, fixing to items one at a time. "Sprinkles?" he asked, his mouth twisting a little.

Suga reached for the plastic shaker of polka dot sprinkles. "You don't like sprinkles?"

"Aren't they just for decoration?"

Suga placed the sprinkle shaker on the table next to the bowl. He began removing ingredients and setting some aside for later, including the sprinkles and frosting can. "I suppose they are..."

Kenma's eyes flicked to the slip of paper on the table. It had writing on it that contained the recipe for sugar cookies, something Suga thought was simple enough to make and eat to fill their cold rainy evening. Suga didn't want to waste ink from his printer, so he scribbled it on scrap paper while glancing at his computer.

Kenma never failed to notice the curves and lines of Suga's writing, neat enough to be legible but not crisp or notably clean; gentle in the curves, but not sharp in the corners. The pencil markings were a little blurred further down the page, smudging as if Suga wrote in a hurry and smeared the side of his hand over what he already wrote. 

Kenma returned to the bag of flour that Suga removed from the bowl. "They're pretty, but they taste like chalk."

"We'll make some without them, then."

Kenma stepped to the counter to open drawers for measuring cups. He couldn't remember which ones he needed, so he took them all and placed them on the table.

"I'll get everything and measure them out. You can mix." Suga nudged the bowl to Kenma.

Kenma waited for him quietly, tapping the whisk against the inside of the bowl. He wasn't impatient; he was perfectly content with watching Suga work, with his head tilted to eye the level in a measuring cup, squinting as soft grey hair fell over his forehead. Suga dumped each ingredient in the bowl and swiftly moved on to measuring something else. It struck Kenma the same way that Suga's writing did, hurried but meticulous, rushed perfection.

After three ingredients were added, Kenma began mixing. He didn't pay much attention to it, but he didn't care. He still kept his eye on Suga, on his hand brushing over his hair, his puffed cheek in concentration, his quick movement turning away to reach for something else. Kenma only registered that he was mixing flour and egg when his wrist grew tired from twisting, the whisk slow and heavy in his hand as the ingredients blended into dough.

Suga glanced at him, away from the oven he just set into preheating. "Oh? I think that's done, Kenma." He lifted a tray onto the table, already shining with cooking spray. "Here, let's start using the dough to make cookie balls."

Kenma went to work right away, sticking his hand into the dough and tearing a chunk off. He stretched it apart into a smaller piece and rolled it in his palm. After repeating it for a few minutes, his skin felt desensitized to the smooth yet sticky feeling of dough rubbing into his hand. He pressed his fingers over his palm and pinched off pieces of dough stuck to him.

"Ah, Kenma? You have some flour on you."

Kenma glanced down at his shirt. Specks and clouds of white were dusted over his clothes, down to his pants.

"You have some on your face, too. Here, I'll get it." Suga swiped his thumb over Kenma's cheek, skirting close to his nose. Kenma's nose and mouth wrinkled on instinct, but he didn't move. Suga pulled away and showed Kenma his whitened finger.

"I'll wash up," Kenma said.

"You don't have to." Suga smiled, his head tilting a little, and Kenma noticed that he had splotches of flour dotted over his clothes, too.

Kenma only glanced at him for a few moments before turning to the sink and splashing water in his face, rubbing his hands over his skin to erase the smudges of flour. Metallic clanking and beeping commenced, scratching and sliding from the table, and he turned and found Suga filling the oven with cookie trays.

"There, now we just have to wait a few minutes. Kenma?"

Kenma moved on to patting flour off his pants, dusting over his knees with his hands. "I'm listening."

"Do you want to start watching a movie while they bake? I don't think we're going to get through much, but we can eat them while watching when they finish."

"As long as it isn't a long movie." Kenma stared at the floor, where puffs of flour had settled. "I'll clean this first."

"That's not...necessary..." Suga's smile turned sheepish as he watched Kenma reach for a napkin and crouch to the flour on the floor.

Kenma stood up and tossed it in the trash. He raised an eyebrow and glanced to the living room. "Suga?"

"Right, the movie. I'll pick." Suga walked away, and Kenma followed, drifting to the couch and curling in the corner where he could see the TV.

Kenma placed a pillow next to the armrest and scooted to fit against it, his arms crossing and legs folding.

"Do you want a blanket?"

"A small one."

Suga removed one from the closet and shook it in the air, flapping it out of its neat folds. He handed it to Kenma, and Kenma tugged it up to his chest and left it alone, letting it fall a little. His eyes snapped to the seat next to him, and then up to Suga.

Suga flopped down beside him. He rolled to the side, tucking his arms into the couch near Kenma's arm. Suga shifted often when he was sitting, and Kenma was prepared for him to brush against his side several times throughout the movie, quietly and slowly, his movements drawn out in soft rustling. Suga didn't talk that much during movies, but Kenma could tell he wanted to. He shimmied to the edge of his seat instead of pointing out something exciting, and he clung to the arm of the nearest person during a scary movie. It was refreshing, compared to the usual people Kenma shared movies with. Kuroo and Bokuto shared a lot of inside jokes, and they repeated them each time they saw something together. Akaashi made a surprising amount of sarcastic comments under his breath, usually to Konoha, and sometimes to himself. And Lev was a mess of all kinds of reactions, talking and fumbling with food while unable to decide if he wanted his legs stretched out or crossed.

The warm sweet scent of sugar wafted in slowly from the kitchen. Kenma sighed into his blanket. The smell was pleasant and mild, soft enough to not be overwhelming like the smell of spicy food. Kenma wanted to avoid frosting and sprinkles, it was too much sugar for him, but he was looking forward to sinking his teeth into a soft fluffy cookie.

The oven beeped, and Suga yawned and stretched to get up and retrieve them. "Want to help me decorate some of them when they cool off?"

Kenma sunk further into the couch. "In a little while." He traced his eyes up Suga's stretching arms, to his sleeved wrists and curled fingers, hands linking together above his head.

Suga lowered his arms with a light pleased groan. "I'll come get you, then." He set out for the kitchen, and Kenma hunkered back into his seat, checking his phone to wait for Suga to return.

**Author's Note:**

> (General A/N that exists at the end of all my fics): I find unsolicited concrit really rude, I'm not looking for any. Please don't tell me someone was OOC/something happened you didn't like/it's too short/etc. in any bookmarks or comments.


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